7| The Unconditional

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So I just realised it's been two years since I last updated this story. Wow, time flies whether you're having fun or not. I apologize immensely for the excruciatingly long hiatus. I really want to finish this and hope you join me for the ride. Enjoy...
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She pried her eyes open− the first thing in sight, a matte black ceiling dotted with tiny lights. Soft linen sheets caressed her palms as she rubbed against them before bringing them to her face to rub away remnants of sleep. Nothing had been peaceful about the night spent in a dreamscape.

She saw him− Kofi. Under a mango tree, in an open field, he stood far off. He was beautiful just as she remembered; wearing that mesmerizing smile that had won her heart. As she drew closer, chipping away like old paint, the facade fell away.

Rotting flesh replaced the smooth canvas of his brown skin, once full cheeks were hollowed out and maggots wiggled through holes. His lips−flaking away−was set in a deep disgusted scowl. The zombie-like appearance had her caught in her steps; dread and sorrow weighing heavy down her chest. She wanted to wail but no sound pushed past her lips nor did tears drip down her face. It was as if she was banned from even mourning for him. Two dark pools had replaced the brown soulful eyes she used to drown in. She was in fact drowning but this time, in a dark abyss of guilt and condemnation.

The distinct sound of a door shutting echoed throughout the empty manor. Someone had entered the house. The dream had caused an overwhelming sense of depression to hang like a cloud over her. To the left, the dawn sun rose over tree tops and filed into the room. Painstakingly, she pushed herself off the bed. It took a moment to realise she was alone and from the way the other side remained untangled, she must have been the whole night.

Memories of the night talking at length with her foreboding companion broke through the fog of depression, shining a sliver of hope that her day, maybe, may not end on a horrible note. It was strange that in one night, she had learnt more about the man than in five months and he was very forthcoming than she had ever thought fathomable.
After straightening out the sheets on the bed, she padded across the fur rug to pick up her ankle boots and tucked them together with the shearling coat she had borrowed. An overwhelming urge to pee gripped her. There was a break in the matte wall forming the frame of a door, one she was sure led to the bathroom. She could've used it but she decided she had over stayed her welcome. Besides how awkward would it be for Henry to walk in on the sound of her gushing urine this early morning? Better safe than unimaginably embarrassed. Standing in the doorway, she peeked out the hallway to make sure it was empty. The doors to her room stood defiantly across from her and with a swift but silent sprint she could make it before anyone− anyone being Marge−saw her. She wasn't quite prepared to get on her bad side this early morning or any other time.

With the speed of a crazed hare, she dashed down the hallway to the stairs, bouncing two steps at a time. There was no one in the lobby below. In a few moments, she would be safe in the confines of her room, pretending she had spent her first night in that glorious new bed of hers. Panic almost set in as soon as she caught sight of her slightly ajar door.

I am doomed!

The thought floated like a kite in her head as she, very cautiously, padded towards the entrance of the room. She didn't make it very far before Marge's frame filled the doorway. Cerulean eyes locked onto the uninteresting onyx pair she possessed.

"Um... good morning?" the greeting came out rushed and uncertain.

"A beautiful morning indeed!" Marge exclaimed, crossing the short distance to her. Her face schooled into absolute indifference. "I trust you had a good night?"

The death grip on the items tucked against her bosom loosened considerably.  "Yes, I did. How about you?" The older woman answered in the affirmative and for a short while, they indulged in the accompanying silence. Mai took that moment to admire the well put-together woman before her. For some reason, she looked even more beautiful under the abundance of natural light oozing through the open door, forming a halo around her. She adorned a figure-hugging peach dress, paired elegantly with a pair of white washed scarpin heels. She was a crater size contrast to the floundering mess that she was. It was damn near stupid but Mai felt jealous of the woman.

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